


The Long Way to Nowhere

by idanato



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Azure Moon Route, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Road Trip, Strong Language, references to dead characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25905592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: Leonie takes a job escorting Dorothea back to Enbarr after Faerghus wins the war. They both bring a lot of baggage.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 29
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

The _Kingdom_ of Fodlan had a great ring to it if you were from Faerghus, but the end of the war was certainly more bittersweet for those that grew up in the recently defunct Adrestian Empire and the disbanded Leicester Alliance. Leonie supposed she should be grateful to King Dimitri and his merry band of murderers, but she’d lost a lot more than her face at Gronder. It hadn’t been an exceptional beauty, but it had been hers and she was quite attached to it. Now it had a great big gash from the corner of lip up to her cheek. It was the thing about Gronder that hurt least because it had no feeling at all.

“Success is rarely about how good you are at things, it’s almost always who you know,” continued Dorothea with little room for disagreement. The singer stood out as too grand for this hole in the wall. Dorothea had glimmering green eyes like emeralds stolen from a shrine, and her loose long hair always looked like she never went long without a bath. She was fancy and you’d never know she’d grown up grifting in the streets.

How was she _still_ talking? Leonie looked up from her pint of ale and across the table at the songstress. “So what, you’re the exception?” Leonie scratched at the side of her head where her hair was cropped extra short. She still kept it long on the top, and braided into a knot. It was her spin on how Jeralt had worn his back in the day. Always being on the road meant she had to carry her memorials with her.

Dorothea’s smile was pretty and jaded as it turned up her lips but refused to show her teeth. “Oh I am exceptional.”

 _An exceptional pain in the ass_. Leonie resisted the urge to roll her eyes and worked on finishing her beer instead.

Dorothea looked smug, “I did get discovered by chance. Just like you in a way, but then unlike you I never stopped trying to make those connections.”

“Well at least I never screwed a guy to get into school, I just earned my place the old fashioned way,” said Leonie. The venom was unnecessary but sometimes when the hornet stung it couldn’t control what got released.

Dorothea’s face remained very still, though her eye twitched at the comment. Then her big fake smile widened, “Leonie, honey, the old fashioned way of getting into Garreg Mach is having the money in the first place.” Dorothea took a delicate sip of her drink as she looked Leonie over, “And just because there are certain things you won’t do, don’t assume no one else enjoys them. At least my transaction was one and done, with no loans to pay off.”

Inside Leonie cringed because the whole point of being here was getting this job, and she’d just run her mouth at her potential employer. She just had to escort this bitch back to Enbarr, get paid, and find her next gig.

She wished she could go back in time and tell that bright eyed little fourteen year old version of herself that her dream would turn into a nightmare someday. All she had ever wanted was to do was leave Sauin and make something of herself. Work hard and success would follow; mercenaries lived and died on skill and merit. She was going to be the Blade Breaker II.

All she’d managed to make was a mess and not that much money. When one fought for a side that lost a war they didn’t get paid. Leonie had to at least give it to Dorothea that the singer knew where to hedge her bets. “You weren’t at Gronder, were you?”

Dorothea looked up and watched Leonie closely, “I was, but I was pretty far from you on the field, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Bile, dust, ringing in her ears. Too much blood in her mouth. She was choking on it. Leonie swallowed reflexively but her mouth was empty, not filling up. “Weren’t you good friends with all those Empire assholes?”

Dorothea was not without her own offensive maneuvers, “Weren’t you friends with Claude? How’d that work out?”

Leonie shut up. This wasn’t a game with winners. She raised her glass instead, “To King Dimitri.” Dorothea had fought with the Kingdom. She raised her glass but did not verbalize her toast. Leonie was interested what was really on her mind about Fodlan’s savior king, but the trip to Enbarr was long and she figured she could get something true out of the singer’s mouth eventually.

Byleth had tossed Leonie this job as a favor. The new Archbishop was reforming the Knights of Seiros, though they were renamed the Knights of Flames these days. The old crowd was there — Catherine, Shamir, Alois — and Leonie had been welcomed. She didn’t want to serve Byleth, nothing personal, she just wanted to choose her jobs. Unfortunately pickings were slim for a one woman mercenary company.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rent a carriage,” yawned Leonie as she met Dorothea out front of the inn in the morning.

Dorothea looked like she was heading towards the opera for the evening, not a road trip between Garreg Mach and Enbarr. Even her sword looked like it was for show. “No one rents a carriage to someone for this kind of distance unless you want to rent all the horses, all the footmen, the driver, and don’t even get me started on the insurance rates with all the bandits in Adrestia.” She paused as if just realizing her mistake, “Sorry, the bandits in _southern_ Fodlan.”

“So, you bought yourself a horse?” Leonie squinted at the mount. “Do you know anything about horses?”

“I know they have a good resale value,” shrugged Dorothea as she patted her docile looking mare. It wasn’t a bad pick for her; a little older, slower, but a good temper for an inexperienced rider.

“You know, I thought you’d have more bags,” shrugged Leonie as she got on her horse. Dusty had also had a shit time in Gronder, and it was a miracle he had survived.

“Yeah, well, you seem to think you know a lot about me, guess you don’t,” said Dorothea as she clumsily got up on her horse and adjusted her big sun hat. She had nice new riding gloves to protect what Leonie could only guess were delicate soft hands. _Mages_.

Marianne’s silky hands reached through the veil of death to stroke Leonie’s cheek. Lysithea’s petite little mitts flashed in Leonie’s peripheral vision, stealing a cookie from a simpler time. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” muttered Leonie with a last look at Garreg Mach in the distance.

They were heading through the remnants of Leicester first. House Daphnel was barely clinging on, and House Galatea had recently motioned to recombine their lands. The King of Fodlan had granted the request without to much debate. Ingrid had been pursued from hell to high water by suitors who she had to treat with to save her house, and now she was the lord of one the largest territories in the new Fodlan. The end of the war was quite profitable for those who had been on the right side of history.

“So what kind of dispensation did you get for defecting to Faerghus?” Leonie had, in a fit of misplaced patriotism, clung to her friends rather than investigate the rumors of Byleth coming back from the dead. If she had known they were all going to die either way she might have at least chased some coin.

Dorothea adjusted herself in her saddle, “It was generous. They couldn’t have gotten through Enbarr without me, so they paid well.”

Leonie scoffed. It was a special type of traitor that left their side and then told the enemy all the best weak spots to exploit. “So, what are we talking here—”

“You know how much you paid to get into Garreg Mach? Twice that,” said Dorothea casually.

Leonie’s neck wrenched towards the singer so fast it almost twisted the whole way round, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah and that was just the commoner’s rate,” said Dorothea. Her words were soft but bitter.

“Where, how, how did they pay you?” That was an unfathomable amount of gold to Leonie, who still owed her village at least a quarter of what Dorothea had earned for her part in the war.

“I’m not getting it all at once,” said Dorothea with a twinge of disappointment. “I’m getting installments. I have enough to get back to Enbarr and maybe set up a place to live. I know they chose Linhardt to run things, maybe he’ll hire me for something. If not, there’s always singing.”

Leonie remembered Linhardt, vaguely, as an exceptionally lazy noble. “Linhardt? Do they want _new_ Enbarr to fail?”

“Probably,” sighed Dorothea. She cleared her throat, “That’s enough talk about Enbarr, how about a song?”

“I’d really prefer—” started Leonie before she was drowned out by Dorothea’s yodeling.

***

The options for staying under a roof were thin in these parts. Gloucester had sided with Adrestia and had been overrun. Control was presently handed to the Church but they were still trying to get things in order. Camping was just fine by Leonie.

Dorothea had her hair twisted up in a silk wrap and was presently scrubbing her face. Road travel meant dust and dirt all up in every nook and cranny imaginable, but Dorothea looked determined to stay as clean as possible.

Leonie watched as the creams came out and then the black magic to warm a towel. It seemed excessive and expensive, “You have quite an involved routine.”

Dorothea glanced over with an easy smile. Years spent around Claude had tuned Leonie into a fake grin when she saw it. “Well, I have to look as young as I can for as long as possible.”

Leonie shut her eyes and decided against a blunt assessment of that sentiment. She might have dosed off for a moment until her eyes shot open as a wet cloth graced on her own face, “What the hell are you doing?”

Dorothea was crouched in front of her, “Helping you out?”

“I don’t need your help,” growled Leonie. She was just going to get dirty the second she got clean; there was no point in this.

“You don’t _want_ it, but you definitely need it,” sneered Dorothea as she continued to invade Leonie’s space. The towel was working into Leonie’s scar in an effort to clear out all the dust that was certainly caked in there.

“Get off,” grunted Leonie as she grabbed the singer by the wrist. Dorothea’s right hand was not the familiar smooth almost waxen texture of Marianne’s. They were not the tiny child like hands of Lysithea. Dorothea’s fingers were kind of crooked at some joints, but her nails were as manicured as the rest of her. Yet the callouses on her right hand were huge from swinging a sword, and then there were the scars. “What are these from?”

“Magic, haven’t you ever seen a mages’ hands before?” demanded Dorothea. Her voice was bristling as she pulled her wrist free of the mercenary and continued to scrub undeterred.

“Yeah, I’ve seen healers—”

“You saw crested mages in class, not commoner mages in war,” sighed Dorothea. “Battle magic will do this even to a crested person, if they fight for enough years.”

Marianne hadn’t lasted years. She’d quietly disappeared after Garreg Mach fell to the Empire. Lysithea on the other hand refused to go away. She survived Gronder; she healed Leonie’s face and packed her up to go back to her village in broken pieces before going to hold Derdriu. Lysithea died when the Empire took the city, and maybe rolled over in her grave when Claude invited the Kingdom to take it back.

Claude welcomed the Blue Lions in after Gronder and thanked them for being true friends to Leicester. It made Leonie sick. She never realized how little she mattered, how little Ignatz or Raphael had meant, until their killers were treated like saviors by their old house leader. Yet why would he care, he had his own kingdom to run.

Dorothea was humming a tune as she finished scrubbing Leonie’s face without her consent. “Your scar healed well, but you should really be moisturizing it. Maybe in a few years it won’t be so bad—”

“I don’t want it to go away,” whispered Leonie. “I want everyone to know where I was.” She wanted everyone to know what side she’d been on, although most people didn’t think she ought to be proud about it.

Dorothea just sighed and packed up her little perfumed jars, “I guess you look tough. That’s probably good for a mercenary. We all have to look our parts.”

This wasn’t something Leonie got to remove at the end of the night like Dorothea wiping off her excessive rouge. This wasn’t a role in a play, it was her life. Leonie lay awake for far too long thinking about the singer's stupid words, listening for bandits, and lamenting her dead as Dorothea’s quiet sing-songy snores drifted up into the night.

Myrddin. Dorothea grew steadily quieter the closer they got to the great bridge that would take them into Adrestia. “So this where Lorenz died,” said Leonie as they crossed the Airmid river. She’d found Lorenz to be an unexpectedly good friend in school, but was unsurprised when his family allied with the Empire. The Gloucesters were trying to take over Leicester, and as far as Leonie was concerned, they’d gotten what they deserved. Maybe if they had defended the Alliance it wouldn’t have fallen apart.

“Not just Lorenz,” whispered Dorothea as she stared the gleaming white stone gates that gave way to the fallen Empire.

Leonie had heard about this battle. “Oh right, what was that guy’s name again—” She’d heard him repeat it so many times in school and yet five years had all but erased that annoying noble from her mind.

“Ferdie,” sighed Dorothea as they crossed beneath the gates. “Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“Seiros crest,” laughed Leonie under her breath. “Right, how could I forget _Ferdinand von Aegir_?” She thought her imitation was pretty spot on.

“He was brave, don’t make fun of him,” snapped Dorothea with a hint of warning in her voice.

Leonie wasn’t about to lay down to a threat from such a hypocrite, “Weren’t you the one who killed him?”

“Yeah, I was,” hissed Dorothea as she urged her horse ahead and away from Myrddin.

“Hey, aren’t we staying here tonight?” Leonie spurred her horse to catch up with Dorothea.

“We can camp, it’s fine, I don’t want to stay here,” said Dorothea without so much as a look over her shoulder at the city.

The only place to camp that they’d reach by nightfall was Gronder field. Leonie was not camping with all those ghosts, “I want to stay here, I don’t want to camp tonight.”

Dorothea stopped her horse and glared at her escort. “Fine, we can stay here if you promise to bathe.”

Leonie felt her eye twitching as she nodded at the request. Dorothea let out a dramatic sigh, “Very well. We’ll stay here tonight, but we’re going out on the town and I’m getting drunk.”

Leonie hadn’t properly bathed in at least a month and maybe Dorothea wasn’t that wrong to demand she get a good scrub in. That required getting out of all her many layers, unbinding her breasts, and looking in a mirror for the first time in a while.

She’d healed and even started to regain the muscles lost while on bed rest in the months since Gronder. She liked her body for the most part though it wasn’t quite back to where it had been at her peak. She knew she’d never be as strong as a man her size, but she also knew most people didn’t train as much as she did and when it came to it, her skill could probably do a number on untempered strength. Leonie was proud of how she’d transformed through the war, and the progress she'd made after everything else important to her was lost.

Leonie didn’t know how to dress this body though. She wasn’t interested in traditional frocks, and compromised with a half skirt tied over her pants on the occasions she let her tits out to breathe. People just took her for a man when she bound them down, and got confused when she didn’t but still dressed in pants. It was like they couldn’t wrap their thick skulls around the idea that a lady might not want to wear a fucking dress.

She always chose loose sleeves because her biceps continually managed to get too big for fitted ones. She did own one fine lambskin leather jerkin that fit her torso like a glove. It felt great to wear, but she hadn’t really had an occasion to break it out in a while. She let her hair down for the first time in a very long time and Leonie had to hand it to her reflection, if not for the big nasty scar on her face, she was a knock out in more ways than one.

The inn’s prices were ridiculous and Leonie almost regretted not camping as she and Dorothea navigated around each other in the tight single room they’d gotten. Dorothea, for not having a ton of bags, managed to pack quite a few fine clothes up. She looked like royalty gracing this backwater trading hub as she put on a thick layer of dark lip stick. She flicked her emerald eyes over Leonie and shrugged, “So you can clean up if you try.” Leonie groaned, the faster Dorothea got plastered tonight, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I feel obligated to leave a disclaimer of don't take medical advice from fics, period, but also, don't pull a Leonie in this fic and bind with bandages for indefinite amounts of time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped the rating to Mature from teen for drinking.

With each drink Dorothea’s expression grew worse as she took in the patrons of the inn. Leonie wished they could hurry up and turn in for the night. She didn’t enjoy the looks they were getting from the locals, nor the looks Dorothea was giving back. Leonie had learned the hard way to stop seeking out a fight in these kinds of places.

Leonie was drinking her usual, the cheapest possible ale. She couldn’t help but notice how Dorothea winced a little at every sip of her fourth glass of wine. Leonie frowned, “I thought you were rich now, why aren’t you buying something nicer?”

“I’m far from rich,” said Dorothea as she played with the stem of the glass and stared at Leonie’s chest. “And everything in Myrddin tastes bad anyway.”

Leonie looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had overheard, “Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself while we’re here.”

Dorothea sighed and kept drinking. As she moved her jewelry glittered and glinted in the candle light, catching and reflecting her net worth. “You never really kept your opinions to yourself in school.” Their eyes finally met. For the first time in a while Leonie felt pretty transparent.

Perhaps Leonie was guilty of talking shit on Dorothea once or twice. Perhaps it rubbed her the wrong way that the ex-opera star was only at the Officer’s Academy to catch a husband after seducing someone for a recommendation. If Leonie had said anything, hypothetically, and it had gotten back to Dorothea, Leonie’s only crime was observing the truth.

“Show me a person who doesn’t have any regrets over something from their past and I’ll show you a liar,” said Leonie before finishing her ale. She had run her blunt mouth into enough misunderstandings and hurt feelings to finally learn when to shut up. Dorothea’s eyes had returned to Leonie’s chest in a way that made her skin warm. Leonie wasn’t afraid to play chicken. She gave Dorothea a teasing air kiss in the hopes it would scare her off.

Dorothea’s face split into a sloppy sad smile as she raised a toast. She downed the glass and immediately rose from her chair, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Whoa, whoa, a walk? Right now?” Leonie scrambled to follow after the diva who was on her way to the door. “It’s dark out.”

“What are you afraid?” sniped Dorothea as she exited the stuffy, cramped inn to walk out into the night.

“No I’m not scared, you’re drunk,” said Leonie as she breathed in the cool air. It was a lot nicer out here than in the inn but Leonie didn’t want to be out in the open unarmed.

“Please, I had three drinks,” said Dorothea with a lazy wave of her wrist.

Leonie was sure it had been four but she didn’t much feel like arguing about it. The moon was lighting up the pale stones of the bridge as Dorothea traced a path from the Alliance side towards the Adrestian side. Leonie supposed it was now all the Kingdom’s side.

“And here was an ambush,” said Dorothea softly as she spun as if narrowly dodging an incoming enemy. She pantomimed a jab and withdrew. “Easily undone.” This was as much a stage as any other place Dorothea had performed. She danced along the vine covered walls of the edge of the town. “Lorenz was up here on his horse with the Gloucester men.” She began to spin. “They looked like knights pulled from the pages of a book and thrown into a meat grinder.”

Leonie caught Dorothea by the wrist before she tumbled and pulled her close. “I think we should go back,” said Leonie.

Dorothea looked at her with a soft expression as she began to lead Leonie as if this were a waltz at the Ethereal Moon Ball. After a moment of resistance, Leonie let herself slip into whatever fantasy Dorothea needed to play out. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually danced with anyone; it might have been Ignatz, it could have been Lysithea, and it was probably around a fire as they camped. However out here in the dark with a classmate she’d barely known it felt like she was someone else. Someone who hadn’t gone to war and lost everything.

Leonie could almost hear the ghostly music of the orchestra at school as they retread the steps that the Kingdom’s army had taken as they traipsed across the bridge. What could have been kept mixing with the reality of what was. Even if there was no war they would not have been friends. Dorothea was chasing a husband, and Leonie was chasing who she was meant to be. Those two paths would not have crossed to bring them here.

Leonie finally took the lead in this strange little number as she dipped Dorothea down. The singer’s long hair tumbled back nearly gracing the ground as she stared at the arches that used to give way to the Empire. All Leonie could see was Dorothea’s pale, exposed neck lit up by the moon. It quivered with the kind of shaking, rattling breath that always proceeded tears.

“I gave him a good death,” hiccuped Dorothea. Leonie worried the singer was either going to lose her dinner or pass out, or maybe both.

“What are you talking about now?” asked Leonie as she brought Dorothea back up to her feet.

“Ferdie,” whispered Dorothea. “I killed him so that he’d die well.”

Leonie sighed, “There’s no such thing as a good death—”

“I didn’t want Dimitri to torture him,” said Dorothea as big fat tears began rolling down her face. “He deserved better than Randolph, so I made sure it was quick and clean.” She looked back towards the inn, filled with patrons she’d been shooting daggers at with her eyes, “The people here strung up him and Lorenz over the gates as we were leaving.” She wiped her nose, “I wonder if he ever got buried. I wonder where he is now.”

The dance was done and whatever dream it had been was over. “They were an occupying force, what did you expect?” Leonie wasn’t much for desecrating corpses but she had a list of people she wouldn’t mind seeing strung up. Dorothea seemed like the type to have a list too; Leonie wondered how many names they had in common on such a morbid chart.

Dorothea wiped her tears away and focused on the water beneath the bridge. She cleared her throat, “I write songs for them, so I don’t forget.”

“Songs for who exactly?” asked Leonie, although she had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.

“Brave bow, bitter crow,” sang Dorothea under her breath. _Varley, Vestra_.

This was most definitely not the time for a traitor’s anthem. “Okay that’s enough opera star, you’re going to bed,” said Leonie as she pulled Dorothea back towards the inn. This was way more than she’d signed on for, Leonie was a body guard not a babysitter.

“Leave me alone,” protested Dorothea as she tried to break free. No dice. Leonie wasn’t as strong as she’d been in her peak but Dorothea was a mage with no muscle. Leonie braced herself for the scene they were about to cause. She kept telling herself they just had to get through the bar and to the stairs.

Leonie felt a strong hand on her shoulder as a passerby intervened, “Sir the lady said—”

Leonie let Dorothea drop to the dingy floor of the bar, she’d apologize for the bruises later, and firmly wrenched the stranger’s hand from herself and turned to look him in the eyes, “I ain’t a _sir_ ; she’s my client and she’s had enough for the night.” He looked surprised but backed up.

Leonie unceremoniously hefted Dorothea up to drag her to their room. The singer was still weakly protesting that she wanted another drink. Leonie had major regrets over forcing Dorothea to stay in this place this evening because now she was paying the price for opening an old wound and pouring some salt in.

“Well this was a mess,” said Leonie mostly to herself as they reached door.

“Did you just call me a mess?” demanded Dorothea as Leonie tried to hold onto her while simultaneously trying to find their room key.

“No, but you are,” grunted Leonie as she finally pushed Dorothea in and dropped her onto one of the little single beds. “I’m trying to keep you from getting us in trouble. You can’t go singing laments for dead Adrestian generals, not anymore.” Leonie barricaded their door just in case any more well meaning men tried to play hero and save Dorothea, “I don’t get you, if you cared so much about them, why’d you switch sides?”

Dorothea just groaned as she rolled her face into her pillow. The morning could not come soon enough for Leonie.

***

Dorothea was most certainly hung over as she adjusted her big hat. She looked as miserable as Leonie felt. They road in silence from Myrddin to Gronder. With each step closer Leonie felt a bigger and bigger stone settling in her stomach and pulling it down.

The field was still a wreck all these months later. As Leonie stared she heard a faint phantom clash of steel and caught the smell the smoke in the air. Her mouth tasted of blood and tears as she remembered catching the lance in her face. She had been trying to fight her way to Ignatz and Raphael. If she had made it she surely would have died with them.

On the day of the battle this place had been gray and teasing rain. Today the sky was as blue as the uniforms of the bastards that had attacked them. Some asshole had even rolled a great big rock to the center of the field as if to say, ‘ _a big battle occurred here, don’t forget_ ’. As if Leonie could will such horrors away.

“Do you want to take a minute?” suggested Dorothea.

Leonie wiped her running nose and shook her head, “No.” She wanted to get the hell out of here.

Dorothea frowned, “It wasn’t a suggestion. I think you need to go talk to some people. I do too.”

Leonie shot Dorothea a look. _Talk to some people_. “Fine,” she said with a sigh.

Dorothea picked up her reins and shook them, “Giddy up.” The horse did not move. “Uh,” stalled Dorothea. “Maybe I’ll just go on foot.” She clumsily got off and marched her horse in the direction of where the Empire and Kingdom had clashed.

Leonie looked at the big charred platform where Bernadetta von Varley had fallen. Bernadetta had been sweet, if not pathologically shy, in school. Leonie had like her in the little they’d interacted in archery seminars and at the training grounds. Now she was probably in the mass grave that held everyone else damned to die in this three way shit show battle.

Leonie made her way on foot towards the staging ground the rag tag Golden Deer had occupied. She could practically hear Claude and Hilda conferencing over their strategy, and feel the mandatory bone breaking pre-battle hug Raphael insisted he give to everyone. She would have squeezed him harder if she had known that would be the last one.

How did one memorialize a group of people who everyone else seemed keen to forget? In the big post-peace victory celebration Byleth had honored Dimitri, then Claude, for helping to end the conflict. Dimitri was king of Fodlan, and Claude king of Almyra, and Byleth was sitting pretty as Archbishop. No one had pretty words for those who fell fighting for the wrong side.

“Hey Ignatz,” muttered Leonie as she stared at the ground. “I hope you and Raphael aren’t, aren’t too cramped down in there.” She crouched and ran her hand over the grass. “I really hope that there’s another place after this, and that it’s better than this one. I don’t think I can handle anything much worse than here to be honest.”

The tears started rolling down her face despite her efforts to stop them. “You guys better have found Marianne and Lysithea or I’ll never forgive you, you hear?” She sobbed a little harder, “And I know he sided with the Empire, but you can invite Lorenz too. I wouldn’t mind punching him for choosing the Eagles over the Deer.”

Her knees met the dirt and Leonie looked up at the sky, “And if you see Bernie or Cyril, say hi for me. Tell them I’ll catch up when my time comes, but you know, I’m not in a hurry.” She started laughing, “I owe some people some money that I need to pay back before I go seeking out my last fight.”

“Last fight?” Dorothea’s voice broke through Leonie’s one sided conversation.

Her faced flushed as she realized what she was saying, “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Leonie,” started Dorothea as she helped the mercenary to her feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to kill myself. I’m just sick of being alone,” mumbled Leonie as she thought about everyone she loved outside her family and her village. Everyone she liked was dead.

“You’re not alone, I’m here,” whispered Dorothea as she pulled Leonie into a hug. “I’m here.”

Dorothea wasn’t a ghost, she wasn’t a memory. She was flesh and bone still moving. Leonie held onto her like the world was spinning and Dorothea was the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground.

***

For their last night together they camped in a small grove. Dorothea demonstrated just how bad she was at cooking before Leonie took over. Somehow she felt lighter for having said her peace at Gronder. She dared to feel a little good about things. This job would be over soon and she’d have to look for something else, but at least she could enjoy tonight.

Dorothea finished singing a little song and Leonie even clapped. Dorothea gave her a bow and a long knowing look. Leonie didn’t play this game, “If you have something to say, say it.”

“We’ll be parting ways soon,” said Dorothea as she continued to stare. Her eyes were dancing over Leonie like they could undo the laces of her jerkin through sheer mental will alone.

Leonie frowned at the advance. Dorothea was slick and calculating, and always flirting for her next meal. “Sorry I don’t think I’m your type.”

“Oh really, what do you think my type is?” There was a hint of annoyance that carried on her otherwise sultry voice.

“Titled,” suggested Leonie.

Dorothea let out a bitter little laugh, “I grew out of chasing lords when I went to war and saw them for what they really were. Nothing special.”

“Oh what, Lord Gautier never turned into a gentleman? Lord Fraldarius was still an asshole?” Leonie stopped herself from suggesting what she thought about Ingrid or Dimitri.

Dorothea sighed, “I’m not interested in them.” She watched the fire crackling and then looked back at Leonie, “Hey, why weren’t we ever friends in school? I feel like you and I have a lot in common.” She wasn’t wrong.

Leonie eased back against her pack and started to get comfortable for sleep, “You remind me of Hilda Goneril.”

“Thank you?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” said Leonie under her breath. Nice hair, big tits, and always trying to get someone to take care of her or trying to fix up something that wasn’t broken. Completely Leonie's type. Hilda’s careless words in passing echoed in Leonie’s head, _I don’t want you to be alone your whole life_. Now Hilda was a world away engaged to the king of Almyra. “I’m going to sleep.”

Dorothea snorted as she settled into her sleeping bag, “Suit yourself. I can get laid easily.”

“I can have sex when I want thank you very much,” said Leonie as she rose to the bait.

“Oh yeah, when was the last time?”

Before Gronder. Leonie wasn’t going to give Dorothea the satisfaction of knowing that. “Good night Dorothea,” said Leonie as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“It was worth a shot,” said Dorothea with a yawn. “I wouldn’t have asked if not for that little number you wore in Myrddin. You looked good.”

“I look fine now too,” shot back Leonie. She was beginning to accept her scar and how it fit in with the rest of her. “I like how I look.”

“I do too, that’s why I’m asking—”

“Go to sleep,” grunted Leonie as she rolled over and ended the conversation. Maybe if they weren’t parting ways tomorrow Leonie might just have done it. However she wanted, no, needed someone who would stay. She needed a person who wouldn’t get robbed away like Jeralt, who would fade like Marianne, and who wouldn’t bravely die defending their home like Lysithea. Leonie needed a promise of a partner, not the short reprieve of a bored fuck to pass some time on the road.

***

Enbarr was still rebuilding from where they’d been run through. Dorothea stared up at the gates with eyes as wide as saucers. Two corpses were slightly swaying in the breeze. Leonie only knew who they were from the dark cape flapping and the messy strands of magenta hair being pushed by the wind.

“Welcome home,” said Leonie. She wondered how long she was going to have to stick around to get paid. She was almost a little sad to get this job over; Dorothea hadn’t been quite what she was expecting.

Instead of going through the gates, Dorothea made a little clicking noise with her mouth as she pulled the reins of her horse and veered east along the wall of the city.

“Hey, wait, where are you going now?” Leonie spurred her horse along to follow.

“I’m here to get something,” said Dorothea as she continued to ride.

“Excuse me? There’s nothing out here.” This was where the pipes let out, where the weeds grew. This wasn’t a place where stuff was. If anything there was just trash.

Dorothea said nothing as she got a desolate spot on the wall beneath a big tree that had overgrown the wall from some noble’s villa. Leonie looked up a the oranges and wondered how much a tree like that had cost to get here.

Dorothea was busy loosening a stone along the wall, “Keep a look out, would you?”

Leonie glanced again at the tree and the cover it was providing. This stretch of wall would be hard to see from a guard tower. Leonie shut up and got off her horse, “What are you doing?”

Dorothea had pulled a metal box from the wall. With shaking hands she popped it open as if she was expecting to jump out. There were stacks of paper money in the box. Dorothea shoved those to the side to pull out a letter. As she read it over the tears streamed down her face, “Son of bitch.”

“What is it?”

Dorothea sighed and cleared her throat. “Dearest Mistress Thorn, if this letter finds you, congratulations you’ve survived us. Enclosed you’ll find all the cash I could stuff in here, behind the box you’ll find what could not fit within.”

Dorothea paused and put her hand deep into the hole in the wall. She grimaced as Leonie heard the metallic clink of coins. Dorothea pulled a purse free from the darkness and tossed it on the ground. Leonie’s eyes bulged at the sight.

Dorothea continued to read aloud, “I fear our paper money may only be good for wiping up shit in the new world order, but gold will always open doors especially for so bright a star. When your information about Myrddin came through I knew we were lost. When Gronder happened, I started preparing. Since you have survived, I must ask you to settle our affairs. Following the fall of Merceus and the attack that came after, I was able to track down the source of our slithering foes—”

“What the hell is this?” Leonie interrupted the insane oration.

Dorothea drew in a deep breath, “Please don’t cut me off.” She cleared her throat and continued, “Their stronghold is called Shambhala, map enclosed. I hope this letter never finds you and that her majesty is victorious, however, it would be a fitting tribute for you to finish out her war since I doubt the Mittlefrank will be honoring any of us in your lifetime. Good luck Mistress Thorn, yours, Hubie.” Dorothea shut her eyes to stop her tears, and started to laugh.

“Care to explain?”

Dorothea started folding the papers and tucking them into her shirt. “You uh, you looking for another job?”

Leonie folded her arms and stared at Dorothea and then the pile of gold. “I don’t understand, I thought you were coming home to Enbarr,” said Leonie as she looked at the city walls. “What other jobs are there?” That sack of gold would put a massive dent into her personal loan.

“I had to come here to check for any last messages now that things have cooled off. Trust me, this place will never be home again,” said Dorothea with a mournful stare towards the blue griffin banners decorating the parapets.

“You came to check for messages, from _Hubert_?” If ever there was a cursed pen pal to have he was it.

“I was his spy,” said Dorothea softly as she put the stone back in place. “I was friends with a bunch of students from Faerghus, I was the only commoner. It was easy to make up a story for why I defected. It was my finest role.” She forced a smile, “But when they started losing, losing everyone, Hubert told me to stop spying, and to just focus on surviving.” Her face contorted as if to stop her tears, “He said he’d do his best to get Petra to take Edie out of here, but, we both know how that worked out.”

Leonie was silent as she processed the news. Dorothea picked up the sack of gold and shoved it into the mercenary’s arms, “You know the bastards who killed Jeralt? Want to come kill them with me?”

Leonie’s eyes widened at the old wound she thought had healed, “You know the people who killed Jeralt? You know where they are?” Her teeth hurt they were clenching so hard.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” said Dorothea she got up on her horse. “I’ll fill you in on the road.”

Leonie had lost all her people, and now she understood Dorothea had too. Leonie swallowed uneasily at the prospect of this job. Having someone meant the risk of losing someone. Dorothea looked at her with a sort of teasing determination and Leonie’s heart leapt into her throat. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to risk having a friend again, or someone more. It would be nice to have a partner with which to get some revenge.

“Alright, I guess.” She got up on her own horse and looked at Dorothea to lead the way. The singer smiled, honestly for the first time in what Leonie suspected was a long time, and started to weave the complicated tale of the emperor, her spy master, and the unlikely commoner turned opera star that flawlessly stole her way into their enemy’s ranks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone's got to take care of the slithers after AM, might as well be these two awesome ladies. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> come yell about rare pairs with me on twitter [@idanato](https://twitter.com/idanato)


End file.
